


New Memories

by EdnaV



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (metaphorically), After all he saw the love of his life dragged to Hell, Aziraphale kicks some serious butt, Crowley is so soft, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Panic Attack, Post-Canon, The ducks in St James's Park, because we deserve it, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 12:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdnaV/pseuds/EdnaV
Summary: “...when I turned, they were dragging you away.”“You did a good job of looking surprised. I almost believed you were trying to save me,” said Crowley.“I was actually trying to,” murmured Aziraphale.After saving the world and themselves, Aziraphale and Crowley are walking in St. James's Park. Watching each other's kidnapping is taking its toll, but Aziraphale has a few ideas about how to chase away the bad memories.Inspired bythis tumblr postby@RK_Anon.





	New Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I read [this perfect tumblr post](https://codicesandflora.tumblr.com/post/186291540555/i-just-realized-something-from-this-scene-where) by [@RK_Anon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/RK_Anon), something clicked, and I wrote this fic in three hours. I hope they won't mind.

It was Sunday afternoon, the world hadn't ended, and they were back in St. James's Park. 

They had met there clandestinely for centuries. Over the years, they had developed a few habits, almost a series of little rituals.

They always met in the same spot. Crowley arrived first, after parking in front of the Duke of York column. Aziraphale was there five minutes later, after a walk in Green Park. Aziraphale miracled some breadcrumbs and threw them to the ducks. Crowley waited on a bench. Aziraphale sat on his right. They pretended to watch the lake. Aziraphale left first, Crowley waited until he was out of sight and went his own way.

That afternoon they had walked there together. Aziraphale had bought the bread at the Marks & Spencer on Piccadilly, waiting in line for ten minutes, much to Crowley's annoyance. “Don't miracle the tourists away, please, my dear,” Aziraphale had asked, and Crowley had the tendency to do anything that Aziraphale asked, even implicitly. 

And their meeting was no longer clandestine. They had been discovered, they had avoided retribution from both Heaven and Hell, and they were finally free — or at least as free as they could ever be. 

Yet they looked around nervously. Aziraphale was alternatively spreading and clenching his elegantly manicured hands. Crowley was glaring at any tourist who happened to pass by. When they arrived at their usual bench, they stared at it and moved on without saying a word. 

When they arrived at the ice cream seller, Crowley finally broke the silence. 

“You said that you saw Death over there?” he said.  
Aziraphale nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “He distracted me. When I turned...” he sounded as if he couldn't find the right words “...when I turned, they were dragging you away.”  
“You did a good job of looking surprised. I almost believed you were trying to save me,” said Crowley.  
“I was actually trying to,” murmured Aziraphale.  
“What?!” Crowley was shocked. “For the plan to work, they had to take me. You know that. You knew that.”  
“Yes. Still. I couldn't bear it.”  
Crowley gazed at the angel.  
“How many centuries have you spent running around to save me?” went on Aziraphale, looking at his feet, at the ducks, at his hands, anywhere but at Crowley, as if he were confessing something terrible. “You think I haven't realised it? It took me a while, I'll grant you that. But I've known at least since you saved my books in the church.”  
Crowley nudged him, tried to keep a light tone. “Took you long enough. You're welcome.” Aziraphale didn't reply. “I didn't do anything I didn't want to, angel,” he added.  
“Well, it was one time too many,” said Aziraphale. He sighed. “And your act was very good, to be fair. You did look terrified. Not that I blame you for that. As you just rightly pointed out, the plan needed both of us...”  
“I was telling you to look out for Hastur,” blurted out Crowley. “Well, I was trying to.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“I saw him over there. I saw the crowbar.” Crowley made a gesture in the direction of where Hastur had been standing. He looked pale, as if he were about to be sick. “I panicked. I thought that it was too risky. They were about to take you to _Hell_ , angel. You've never... well, you _had_ never been there. And now that you've been there, you know why I couldn't let you go there. It's Hell. If you think that saying _‘It's tickety-boo’_ is enough to calm me down when I think that you're being dragged to Hell, you're an id...”  
“But the plan...” interrupted him Aziraphale.  
“But I love you, angel.”

It was Crowley's turn to look guilty, or at least more embarrassed than he'd ever been in more than six millennia.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

Crowley felt as if he were falling — not _sauntering vaguely downwards_ , a proper fall. _Okay, now he's leaving. For good. Well, at least I saved his life one last..._

Then Aziraphale kissed him.

It was probably a good thing that neither of them needed to breathe. 

When they eventually realised that they were never going to compensate six millennia of hiding with a single kiss, they found themselves in each other's arms. They moved on to do with their gaze what they were doing with their lips.

Eventually, as if he were stating the obvious, Aziraphale said, “I was about to hate this place.”  
Crowley was still at loss for words. He was trembling a bit, but he was no longer pale.  
Aziraphale went on, in the casual tone that he used to _politely suggest_ something that Crowley would inevitably end up doing, “...but maybe we should move elsewhere, my dear. It could be a good idea to find a new place to stroll along too. Too many memories, as they say. I believe that the Victoria and Albert Museum would be excellent. Although I think that we should start by walking to the bookshop, I'd rather like to check the new books you were mentioning. And if the couch is still to your liking, of course. I believe it's time to create new memories, don't you?”

Crowley nodded. Then he smiled.

They walked all the way to Soho without letting go of each other's hand.

They went back to St James' Park, eventually. Sometimes they fed the duck. Sometimes they even sat on the old bench. One afternoon, they even had a vanilla ice cream and a strawberry lolly.

But on that particular Sunday afternoon they were busy elsewhere. They were on a very comfortable couch in a certain bookshop in Soho, and not making much of an effort to hide.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read it! 
> 
> I hope you liked it. I didn't ask for a beta, I just wanted to put it out there.
> 
> If you leave a comment you'll make me happy, and all that sort of things. :-)


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